Lonely This Christmas
by wowstars
Summary: Sequel to The Whole of the Moon. Nine months on, Connie is still struggling with her loss. What will it take for her to pull through?


**Hi everyone, hope you all had a fab christmas! I realise that this is very late, but I really wanted to get it out there. I think it may be the cheesiest thing I've ever written, and as usual I am unhappy with the ending, but lets see what you think. Hope you enjoy and happy new year!xx**

* * *

The faint whisper of the lights as they flicker on brings brightness to the kitchen, but my heart remains heavy. Christmas decorations glimmer and the worktops shine, but I can hardly bear to look at them. I walk quickly to the fridge for a bottle of wine, grabbing an old coffee mug, her mug, from the shelf. Wine glasses seem too ornate for what I am feeling.

Tomorrow marks exactly nine months since she left me, since my world fell apart and my heart shattered. This afternoon I dropped Grace off at the airport to spend Christmas with her father. I can't bear for her to see me overcome with the inevitable devastation that tomorrow will bring flooding back, the devastation that I have worked so hard to suppress.

I swallow down my maximum-dose Prozac with the first glug of wine, feeling it travel slowly down the back of my throat, making me feel sick to my stomach. I hate that I rely on medication to get me up on a morning, to function, but I have to do it for Grace. Every time I close my eyes I see her falling, again and again until I wake up as a sobbing wreck, my hair stuck to my head with sweat and with tears. I don't work, I don't go out, I don't live. I don't want to live, not without her.

It feels fitting that I be reminded so much of her on Christmas Eve. I remember last year, at the very beginning of our relationship, when we had felt it too soon to spend Christmas together. But we ended up doing so anyway. Unbeknownst to me, Rita had told her parents she had to work on Christmas, but at nine o'clock on Christmas Eve there she was, standing on my doorstep, presents in hand and blushing from the cold air on her cheeks. I told her that she shouldn't have blown out her family for me, but in reality I was the happiest I had been in what felt like forever.

 _Remember how you bought me that dress, and when you saw me in it you took it straight off again, and we spent so long upstairs that you burnt the turkey?_

I take another large swig of wine, my heart beating faster, almost painful in my chest as I feel again the warmth prickle the back of my neck, and goosebumps raise on my skin.

I close my eyes, raising my fingers to my lips. It's not real, I tell myself as always, but still I speak, and feel the warm spread slightly to my stomach.

"You were so beautiful. You _are_ so beautiful. I..." My lip trembles, preventing me from finishing my sentence.

 _I couldn't remember being that happy in my entire life,_ she whispered, her breath tickling my ear. _It was perfect._

I nodded, my jaw tensed against the tears, holding back the questions that I knew would send her away. But still, I couldn't help but let it slip out.

"Why, Rita," I whispered, my teeth chattering and my voice thick. "Why did you do it? Why did you have to-"

I turned to my side, as always expecting her to be there, cuddled up beside me, but she was gone.

She's always gone.

Tears sting in my eyes.

"I miss you."

* * *

When I opened the fridge next morning to get some milk for my coffee, the phone rang. I paused for a moment, contemplating not answering. I really don't want to speak to anyone today, of all days. The pain in my chest and in my mind is excruciating and I fear that if I open my mouth I may scream, or simply collapse on the floor in a heap. I can feel her today, feel her stronger than ever, and am carrying her pain on my shoulders too. It's times like this when I am overcome with a rage so unlike myself that it frightens me slightly. _It was you that left me_ , I felt like screaming, _why is it me that has to suffer?_ I hate her in these moments, with so much venom that it seeps into my every limb and makes them tremble uncontrollably. I close my eyes, taking a steadying breath.

"Hello?"

"Hi Connie, it's Charlie," the warm voice on the other end of the phone says. I relax slightly.

He still hasn't stopped ringing me regularly, even though I make almost no effort in return. I don't have the energy or the motivation to, choosing instead to wallow in my grief and sorrow. He understands this, though, and doesn't take it personally. He usually rings to check in on me twice a week, and every now and then appears on my doorstep with a bag of shopping or some flowers. He'd make me a cup of sweet tea, tell me to sit down and relax, and cook me up a delicious meal with all the trimmings. He even brings little microwave containers and fills them each with a portion of whatever he has cooked for me to put in the freezer as a quick microwaveable meal for when I don't have the energy to do anything else. He was the one that encouraged me to be more proactive in my efforts to win back my daughter, even though just leaving the house felt like too much strain to bear. In all honesty, although I would never say it aloud, he has been invaluable these past few months, and I'm unsure just where I would be without him.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" He asked cheerfully.

I take a deep breath, trying my best to match his tone. "I'm just going to spend this one at home I think. I have a good bottle of Chablis in the fridge with my name on it."

"Well, why don't you bring it round?" He replied, that compassionate, fatherly edge to his voice letting me know that my attempt to seem okay had fallen flat. "It's just Louis and I this year and there's plenty of turkey to go round."

I held my breath, feeling tearful all of a sudden. He was always too kind to me, which made me emotional because I felt so undeserving of it. Why should he offer me this seemingly unconditional affection when I offer nothing in return? The answer was that he could see right through me. He saw through my lies and my front and he just understood. But still I could not accept him on his offer.

"I think I'll give it a miss, Charlie," I said carefully, looking down at the floor and blinking back the sudden tears. "I'm tired from Grace's visit. I just need a quiet day to myself."

I heard him breathe in deeply as he contemplated trying to convince me to change my mind but eventually gave up on the idea, knowing that I wouldn't. "Okay. The offer still stands if you change your mind. And I'll be over to see you on Boxing Day. You can't get rid of me that easily." I heard the joking tone to his voice, and smiled slightly though my lip trembled.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I replied softly. "Merry Christmas, Charlie."

"Merry Christmas."

 _You should go with him._

The sudden voice as I put down the receiver makes me jump slightly, but I soon recompose myself and go back to my coffee, keeping my eyes down.

"No," I say firmly, my shoulders tensing with self-consciousness as I realise how I must sound, talking to myself like this. I often wonder if I am going mad, having her in my head like this, but I don't want to change it. I miss her too much for that.

"It wouldn't feel right. I barely know Louis. I'd feel like I was intruding."

 _You wouldn't be though. You know that._

"I just can't do it," I said again, with annoyance in my tone. "Okay?"

There was silence again, though still my heart thudded, goosebumps rising on my arms. I felt heat near me, but wouldn't look up for then the illusion that she was with me would be shattered, and I would be alone once more.

 _You need to move on,_ she said quietly, her voice full of sorrow. _You can't live like this._

"Can't I?" I replied, the corners of my lips turning upwards slightly with my dark humour, until suddenly they dropped back down again and I let my head fall into my hands, the tears I had held back for most of the day pouring out and a loud sob escaping my lips.

"I miss you," I stammered. "I miss you so, so much. I can't take it." I let my head drop to the table, feeling my hair fall down onto my tear-soaked cheeks but not caring enough to move it out of the way.

 _I'm sorry_ , I hear her say quietly, her own voice trembling.

"I hate you!" I shout out suddenly through my tears. My shoulders jolt with the violence of my sobs and I reach a hand up to wipe my running nose. My chest feels so heavy that I want to abandon my position at the table and instead sink to the floor, let my limps slacken completely with the power of my grief. I breathe in deeply in an effort to calm myself, my face still pressed uncomfortably against the hard, wooden surface.

"I love you," I whisper, closing my eyes as I feel my heart breaking as it has done a thousand times since she fell.

 _Then do this for me. I want you to be happy._

"I can't be," I replied, sniffing. "I can't stop thinking about it. All the wasted time, all the awful things I said and did to you. What we could have had." I clear my throat, running a hand through my hair. "I dream of it every night," I continued quietly. "I see it all so, so vividly. The glistening in your eyes as you walk down the aisle. The soaring of my heart as I wake up each morning and the first thing I see is you. I even see the exhilaration on your face as our child takes their first steps. And then, always, I see the fall. How can I be happy, knowing what I've lost?"

 _You can be. Because you're stronger than this, you just need to realise it. You need to accept that there's no going back. For me._

"Why did it have to be like this?" I say, my sobs steadying and my breathing more even. I lift my head, and the crushing isolation hits me once more as I realise that I am alone.

* * *

That afternoon I visited her grave. It's not something I do often anymore; it's too painful, but today I felt like it was something I just needed to do. I stopped at the supermarket for some flowers and tried my best to keep myself composed as I laid them before her headstone.

When I arrived home, I was barely through the door when the phone rang again. Seeing Charlie's caller ID I picked up the receiver, bracing myself for him trying again to convince me to spend Christmas with him.

"Connie?" He said urgently, before I had had time to say anything.

"Yes?" I replied.

"We need you to come into work," he said, and I could hear the strain and desperation in his voice. "There's been an RTC on the bypass involving five cars and a lorry. We're two doctors down and St. James' are already packed to the rafters. There's at least eight casualties that we're currently aware of, five of them critical. We need you."

I held my breath, biting my lip. I hadn't been into work since she left, taking compassionate leave initially and then medical, as I was too depressed to work. It felt wrong, though, going back to work now, of all times. After such a long absence, I didn't feel that I would fit with it any more, and had been considering resigning my post.

"I don't know, Charlie," I said steadily. "I haven't practiced in months. I would be useless."

"No you wouldn't," he said insistently. "This job is in your veins, Connie. It's like a second nature to you. Please, you know I wouldn't be asking if we weren't desperate." I hesitated, closing my eyes as I tried to think of a way out of this.

 _You should go. You have to. You can do this._

I take a deep breath, leaning against the wall as I attempt to process my thoughts. I am torn between my desire to help and my fear at the memories that being back in the ED would evoke.

"Well?"

 _Go._

"I'll be in as soon as I can."

* * *

I keep my eyes averted as I rush into the ED, trying my best to avoid looking at the rooftop upon which she spent her last moments or the patch of ground onto which she fell. I felt nauseous with the feelings that came back to me in an instant; the shock, the pain, the emptiness. I powered on through to my office and quickly threw my bag and coat onto the little sofa, not wanting to disturb any of Zoe's stuff as she had stepped up to take the position of clinical lead in my absence, and made my way to find Charlie.

As I walked up to the nurses station I froze, spotting the dark blue uniform of her replacement. She was almost the polar opposite of Rita, with long, dark hair scraped up into a bun and a thick fringe hiding her forehead. She wore more harsh makeup, and was much older than Rita, visibly so. I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to turn around, to run away, but I felt as though I was glued to the spot.

"I can't do this," I whispered to myself, my voice thickening and my heart rate speeding up.

 _You're Connie Beauchamp. You're their Clinical Lead,_ I heard her soft voice once more, feeling instantly comforted by it. _That's what you're here for. That's what you do._

"Mrs Beauchamp?" I heard Lofty call out as he spotted me staring at them. I quickly attempted to compose myself, snapping determinedly out of my trance and putting up my front. I take a deep breath.

Suddenly I seemed to be the main focus of attention in the ED, with people crowding around me, asking me how I was, offering their condolences and welcoming me back. Robyn hugged me, Dylan gave my arm a comforting squeeze, and Dixie shook my hand warmly. I could see from the grave look on her face that she was suffering too and could sense the tears in her voice, which I tried to ignore for the fear it would set me off too.

"I'm fine," I said eventually, avoiding eye contact with any of them. "I've just come to lend a hand, seeing as you're so short staffed tonight. Do I need to tell you to get back to work?"

They all scurried away, a sense of familiarity coming over me as I remembered who I used to be before all this, and felt for the first time that I could to some extent find that part of myself again.

Charlie appeared then to brief me on what was happening. Two of the casualties had already arrived and were in resus with Cal and Zoe treating them. Ethan was on cubicles, and Dylan in charge of the walking wounded. I needed to take the next patient.

"Or you can swap with Dylan, if you'd like?" His voice had the hint of a challenge in it, though, as he knew that resus was what I lived for. I felt myself gaining back that exhilaration of being in such a fast paced environment, of leading a team. It rushed through my veins, sending my heart pumping and my limbs tingling with adrenaline. _This is what you're here for._

"ETA three minutes," Charlie says in response to my silence. I see a small, knowing smile on his face as he nods to me in support. I smile in return, before making my way to the entrance to greet the next patient.

"Right this is Megan Beech, she was the driver of a car in an RTC. Crush injuries to both legs, a severe head laceration and dislocated shoulder. Query chest fracture. She was wearing a seatbelt."

"Okay, Megan. I'm Mrs Beauchamp, I'm going to be taking care of you."

"She's had two of morphine and a bag of saline. GCS was seven but dropped to four en route. She's tachycardic. Pulse is one twenty. BP's seventy two over thirty," Iain continued as we bust through the doors of resus and I quickly set to work.

"Right, I need a fast chest and leg x-ray, FBCs, Us and Es, LTF and an abdominal ultrasound please."

I pull back the blanket to look at her legs. "Okay we've got two compound fractures. They'll need realigning in theatre ASAP."

"Theatre's all backed up, Mrs Beauchamp," Lofty says, coming off the phone and towards me.

"This is urgent, she's losing blood flow. I…" I trail off. I can't do it. It's too soon. "Get Dylan."

 _You can do it._

I close my eyes against her voice, against the emotion it evoked. I looked down at my trembling fingers. "How can I?" I whispered.

 _Because you're Connie Beauchamp._

I frown frustratedly, dabbing my forehead with the back of my hand. I want to do it, but it just doesn't feel right. If anything went wrong, I don't know how I'd cope.

"SATS are dropping."

I lift my head. _Deep breaths._ "Right lets prep her for fracture realignment. I need a surgical kit in here now."

One of the HCAs rushes off to get the kit as Lofty returns with Dylan. "Right what have we got?"

"She's got compound fractures in both legs and she's losing blood flow. We need to get them realigned before she loses circulation." I look up at him, seeing the confusion in his face as he knows that this should only take one person, but then in a glance knows why I need him here, and wordlessly starts getting ready for the surgery.

I can feel her with me, the whole time, as though she's holding my hand, guiding me through it. I feel her pride as I stem the blood loss and get the fracture back into place, and her BP stabilises. Relief spreads through my veins and I let out a deep breath as we close up the wound. Dylan and Lofty both give me a nod of encouragement, informing me that they appreciated how difficult that was for me but knew that I wouldn't like it to be said aloud.

After that I felt something shift, and I was back into my stride. I treated a further three patients that night, performing surgery on two of them, and it began to feel like I had never left. Even though each time I looked up for assistance I expected her to be there, and my stomach jolted as I saw that she was not, still I could sense her incitement and support as I worked, as though she was guiding me.

At the end of the shift I was met at the nurses station by a round of applause. Everyone was there, and just as Charlie was coming towards me I looked up as saw Zoe and Lily stood behind a computer on the other side, both clapping and smiling at me. I smirked as Charlie embraced me, looking at him with suspicion.

"You weren't really two doctors down, were you?"

He grinned at me. "No." He shook his head, then said quietly, "Just one." He raised his eyebrows, looking at me pointedly, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Charlie Fairhead. You are a fox."

He chuckled, moving away as more people came to speak to me. I felt at home, back amongst my colleagues, and for this I felt immediate guilt because she wasn't part of it. I felt that sadness sweep through me again, and politely excused myself.

"Mrs Beauchamp," Lofty called after me. "You'll come to the pub with us, won't you? Have a celebratory drink for Christmas?"

I looked round, hesitant, and saw all of their eyes on me. I took a deep breath. "Sorry, I really can't tonight," I said, avoiding eye contact. "Maybe some other time." I turned away quickly, letting myself into my office so that I could finally relax and sit down.

 _Go,_ came her voice once more. I sighed.

"You're so bloody domineering, you know that?"

 _And you're so bloody stubborn. Go after them._

"I can't. I can't take their sympathetic looks and walking on eggshells around me."

 _They'll be like that for the first drink or so, then they'll get over it. They want you to be there, Connie._

"I don't do pubs."

I heard her laugh heartily.

 _Pull the other one, you're from Peckham! I wouldn't be surprised if you were born in a pub._

I laughed too. "Nor would I, really."

We were silent for a few moments more. "I'll never stop loving you," I said quietly, a tear rolling down my cheek.

 _That doesn't mean you can't enjoy your life._

"Doesn't it?" I bit my lip against more sobs, knowing that soon I will have to escape this office and not wanting to have puffy eyes when I do so.

 _No it doesn't. Now go. You know this is the right thing to do. I love you._

"I love you," I whispered, seconds before Zoe come bursting through the office door, and I felt her leave for what I knew would be the last time.

"Sorry I didn't realise you were in here," she said cheerily. "I've just come to get my bag."

I nodded to her, my mind whirring with indecision, but I knew now what I was ready to do, what I had to do.

"So," she said again, looking at me. "Is there any chance of me getting my life back any time soon?" She gestured to the large stacks of paperwork on her desk, looking at me pointedly.

I smiled at her. "Maybe," I said softly. "I just need a bit more time."

"Well," she replied, buttoning up her coat. "There's time and there's time. You've been gone for nine months now." She caught my eye, and I saw that this was her way of letting me know she understood and supported my decision.

"I know." I looked down, searching for words. "I suppose I'll see you in the new year, then." I grinned at her.

"New year?" She replied with fake incredulousness. "Are you not coming down the pub?"

My mind's instant response was not, but then I remembered her words, and knew in my heart that this was what I needed to move on.

"Okay," I replied, with something like happiness filling up my stomach. "I'll just put my coat on."

She waited for me, holding the door as we left. Charlie saw me coming as we walked out through the ambulance bay, and took my arm as we walked past.

"So what'll it be," he said knowingly, with a cheeky smile. "Christmas pudding or yule log?"

I chuckled at him. "Either," I said warmly. "Whichever you like?"

He grinned at me, and I felt considerably lighter as I realised that I could move on, continue with my life, and that I had the strength to leave behind the guilt that I was feeling. I knew it would be tough, but I could do it. I could make her proud.

As we crossed the road to the pub the church bells began chiming midnight, signifying the start of Christmas Day. A cheer went up among us, and we quickly rushed inside to raise a glass in celebration, and to absent friends.

Merry Christmas.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry again that it's so late. Please let me know what you thought!xx**


End file.
